Coming Home
by Daisyflo
Summary: "Her eyes are still wet and puffy when she hears the familiar whistle announcing his arrival. An unmistakable, unique sound she'd hated at first, then longed for, until finally learning to dread it. But tonight, it only brings her comfort."


The day of the general's funeral, Rey sleeps aboard the _Falcon_ in the captain's quarters.

She should be used to it: meeting people, then losing them. Attachment was something she's long forbidden herself to feel, yet her heart doesn't seem to care about what she allows herself or not. BB-8, Finn, Han, Leia, Rose: new names keep adding to the list while some disappear, taken by a war she never wanted to be a part of. And for the first time in years, she finds herself worrying about someone other than herself, with more to lose than she's ever had.

It's hard to tell whether she regrets them or not. Having friends is a luxury she never thought she'd be able to experience; still, she can't push away the mental image of each and every one of them dying in front of her at any time. A crash, a blaster bolt, a mission without return: every single scenario has already been concocted by her vigilant brain every time she realizes she's dropping her guard. Every laugh, every careless moment feels like danger, and brings more guilt to her already weary heart. She's lost too much; they've all lost too much. And she knows she shouldn't feel abandoned, because Leia sure didn't abandon her.

Ben did, though, weeks ago.

He'd been there, today. Just as usual, she'd been the only one to see him, and probably the first in years to see a particular gleam in his eyes. She would've ignored it if not for the many tears she'd seen rolling down his face.

They didn't talk, of course. They cried, for sure; but today wasn't about them, so she allowed him to join her side when the time came to say her final goodbye to the woman she knew would be missed a lot. She let his arm brush hers, too, when the fire began.

* * *

The quarters are cold and way too big for her alone. They're silent, too; a heavy silence betraying loud and unruly memories she can still feel floating around. Despite his absence, the room is still indubitably inhabited by its last owner: a pair of boots seem to have been forgotten under a chair, and there are more blasters than one man should ever need. Not far away from the boots, an old brown leather jacket is lying on the floor, abandoned and definitely worn out.

Rey's just been standing here for a few seconds, and she's already wondering if leaving the common dormitory was a good idea after all. Just because she can be by herself doesn't mean she loves to- but she needs to. The idea of sleeping alone after so many nights shared with what's left of the Resistance scares her a little, but maybe… Maybe the Force will humor her. Maybe she won't be alone.

It was what he'd promised her, after all.

The covers are a little rough at first. Cold, too; definitely hadn't been used in years. A brief image of Han tucking his son in caresses her mind and she stops for a minute, half settled in bed. The loneliness she's felt when entering the room takes a whole new meaning, which she tries to ignore as she finally sinks under the heavy blanket that she knows isn't and will never be hers. Within seconds, the tears she's been holding back all day fall down her face, and in the blink of an eye, the pillow she's buried her face in is damp.

Her eyes are still wet and puffy when she hears the familiar whistle announcing his arrival. An unmistakable, unique sound she'd hated at first, then longed for, until finally learning to dread it.

But tonight, it only brings her comfort.

The mattress sinks under their combined weight, and Rey finds herself holding her breath at the realization that the bed isn't _that_ large. With each breath, Ben's back heaves and brushes hers, causing her stomach to tighten and tickle at the same time. He's not sleeping either; she can hear it from how unsteady his breathing is. He's crying, too; she can hear it- or maybe she's _feeling_ it through their bond. It's only grown stronger lately, so much that she knows his current thoughts are very similar to hers: feelings of abandonment and loneliness competing against a profound sadness, combined with the contradictory need to scream yet remain secluded for the next days.

But they won't have days. Even though their worlds seem to have stopped, the war hasn't. The war doesn't allow time for grief and isolation, it just keeps taking and raging.

Without turning to him, Rey lets her hand wander behind her back and waits for his to do the same. When he does, she grabs it and holds it firmly. They won't have days, but they'll have a few hours; enough to forget their enemy status and hold onto each other as they cry silently.

* * *

The night after, he appears at the exact same moment, in the exact same position. This time, though, Rey doesn't hold her breath.

Even though the room is already dark, they're fast to find each other's hand. Her grip is still firm, but his has softened a little; she can even feel his fingers hardly brushing her knuckles after a few minutes.

She still refuses to turn back, but she can feel his desire to wipe the tears away from her face. She wants to wipe his too.

* * *

It takes them four days to say something. To her great surprise, Rey isn't the one to talk first.

"I'm sure she loved you."

His voice trembles as he speaks, but so does hers when she replies.

"She loved you too."

* * *

A week later, Rey feels an unfamiliar sorrow hit her as their fingers intertwine.

They've drawn closer with each day, but tonight more than ever. Feeling bolder than usual, Rey has shifted on the mattress until their back met. She doesn't really know why; maybe a need of proximity or a desire to make him _feel_ that she's here. Either way, his warmth spreads through her shirt, giving her a satisfying sensation of safety.

It's only when she feels his breathing become unsteady and he starts sniffing that she realizes the sadness isn't hers. She's still sad, of course, but she's learned to move on; it's part of her surviving mechanisms. Another sniffling echoes in the room, and his shoulders shake against hers.

"Ben?"

His hand trembles around hers, and memories that aren't hers start flooding her mind. Nights waiting for a glimpse of his mother's eyes, for a kiss goodnight and days spent in the very same room listening to his father from afar while playing with Chewie. Good days, bad days, anger then guilt, all wrapped by a weird mix of love and absence, happiness yet a feeling of _not enough_. Rey only realizes she's turned when her eyes meet Ben's, filled with tears and the many emotions she's felt flowing through the bond.

She hasn't seen his face in days, yet the tears now flooding it are very similar to the ones she noticed during the funeral. Somewhere under the covers, her fingers let go of his and her hand leans on the mattress for support as she sits up on the bunk, not once breaking eye contact.

The tears seem to slow down as Ben regains control of his breathing. After a few seconds, his eyes close, and Rey can hear the question before the words cross his lips, nervous and blunt.

"Can I kiss you?"

Rey doesn't bother voicing her answer, because _of course he can_. Her heart is racing and slowing down at the same time, the gap separating them insanely short compared to how long it takes her to close it. After what feels like minutes rather than seconds, her mouth crushes against his, maybe a little too abruptly. He doesn't move at first, then proceeds to mirror her sitting position as his lips starts moving with hers at a hesitant pace.

It's not exactly how Rey had envisioned her first kiss- but despite the tears melting on their lips, she knows they're not only seeking comfort. Or maybe they are; maybe loneliness is actually what brought them together. Maybe shared loneliness can lead to a together, just as shared sadness is now leading them to a sweet kiss that grows more passionate with each second.

"You're sad," Ben murmurs when she pulls back for air.

It's a warning rather than an observation, she can feel it in the way he bites his lower lip. A fear, too: that she's taking pity on him, giving in to temporary feelings-

"No," Rey breathes out.

A slight frown creases Ben's brow as she takes his face between her hands. She takes in his look as she cautiously runs a finger along the scar trailing down his neck. It looks significantly better than before, and she finds herself wishing Ben did, too.

"No," she repeats with a shake of her head. "You know I wouldn't."

A multitude of feelings and words rushes inside of her, all wanting to be read by the man standing in front of her. Trust, empathy, promises, affection- _come back_.

Ben seems to hear them; his face softens, and he leans down for another kiss, longer this time.

* * *

"Sorry, I… I've never…"

Ben's hand trembles against her skin, making the covers shake above them. His hair is in his face, but Rey can see the fear in his eyes when his fingers reach a part of her she'd never thought he would ever consider touching.

Feeling his growing frustration taking over, Rey cranes her neck to capture his lips again. Not once breaking their embrace, she takes his hand and guides it slowly along her skin, paying attention to his reactions and feelings. She can feel them more than ever.

The bed isn't cold anymore, and his body on hers definitely has something to do with that. She only allows him to break the kiss when he smiles through it; a brief, short-lived smile that makes her heart jump inside her chest. She's seen him smile before, but nothing compared to the pure, genuine way his lips are curling above hers, like he can't help himself.

"Rey?"

She hears it before he can say it: the same promise he'd made weeks ago, in a hut on a remote island. Another promise follows this one, and Rey doesn't need the bond to know he means it.

"I know," she murmurs.


End file.
